


Stumbling into Truth

by nic



Category: The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, The Magician's Land
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic/pseuds/nic
Summary: Quentin created an entire land!  He got the girl!  He should be happy, right?Aka Quentin still doesn't know what he wants.  Set after the end of "The Magician's Land".
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Stumbling into Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mixtapestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/gifts).



After the nineteenth day on the cozy horse, Quentin began to suspect he had seriously misjudged this whole thing. And it wasn’t just because the horse smelled bad; or that his thighs were chafed beyond belief, or that Alice had stopped hugging him after the first two hours. No, it was more that this was supposed to be the happily ever after, the reward after everything they’d been though. But the truth was, it was pretty boring.

He didn’t dare voice any of this to Alice. After all, how could he be bored? This was an entire brand new land! They could do anything they wanted; be anything they wanted. The problem was, Quentin didn’t quite know how to do that. He’d been lost for so long, both before and after Fillory, then made his best attempt at a normal life (but being fired from Brakebills put a quick end to that). 

And now this. His land. Teeming with life and people and bearing more than a passing resemblance to Fillory...only the castle here sat empty and he wasn’t in any rush to go sit on the throne. There was magic in the air and endless wonder to be found, but he realised that he wasn’t all that interested. The challenge had been in the creating, not the exploring. He’d done this before. He wondered to himself, in vague horror, was this what it was to be finally an adult? To realise that endless adventure or quests were merely a distraction from the actual living of life? 

“You’re brooding,” Alice said.

She jumped off the horse to stretch her legs. (Technically, the cozy horse’s back was big enough that she could walk around up there, but that tended to induce seasickness from the constant motion.) The horse gave a satisfied shudder.

Quentin shook his head, instinctively denying her words. It was his job to be strong for Alice and show her how far he’d come. How much he’d grown from the insecure boy she’d dated so long ago. He felt like he owed it to his past self; the one who had loved her so desperately, the one who had grieved for so long. He wanted to love her like that again, but something was missing. He wasn’t sure if it was her, or if he himself was just too different. He was still attracted to her, but they just weren’t clicking. 

He couldn’t help but compare his conversations with Alice to his conversations with, say, Plum. Or Eliot. Talking to Plum was exciting, invigorating. There was intelligence and hope in her eyes; she was a girl with so much excitement about life. And then there was Eliot. He’d never actually thought about it until he lost Julia, but it was Eliot who was his best friend now. Eliot who made him laugh and challenged him and was still so easy to be around. Even with so much craziness going on, Eliot never failed to ground him. He was there; solid, dependable, reliable.

And in that moment, Quentin found himself wishing it was Eliot riding around the new land with him instead of Alice.

He just had to give it more time. Alice was still finding himself. She’d been a niffin; it took time to come back from that! He had to be there for her as long as she needed. He owed it to her.

“I want to go back to Earth.”

Alice looked directly at him, with that unnerving stillness that she’d picked up during her niffin years. “I’m not learning anything here. The magic is too raw, too new. It’s still settling in.” She performed a very basic spell, trailing lights from her fingers; simple sparks that used to fascinate Quentin but now seemed so very ordinary.

She’d always been direct and while this had hurt younger Quentin, he now appreciated it. “Okay,” he replied slowly. “Whatever you need. We can start heading back tomorrow.”

“No,” and she looked frustrated. “I want to go back to Earth. By myself. I need to - “ and she looked both exasperated and ashamed, as if she were letting Quentin down. “Look, Quentin, this new world is your thing. I can’t stay here in limbo like this. I need to figure out what I missed on Earth. I need to get connected to humanity, otherwise I think I’m going to lose myself again.”

It all made perfect sense, even though it made his heart ache. Alice was all he had left; she was the one he’d chosen. And likewise, he was the only one that she had which … 

… which was exactly the problem.

Shit.

He’d isolated himself again. And wasn’t that the one thing that his past therapists had reminded him over and over? That he needed human connection to stay balanced, otherwise he could get wrapped up in his own head and not even notice that things were starting to slip.

“Let me come with you,” he said. “I can help you get set up. I can find you a place to live…” He trailed off, realising that he didn’t even have his own place to live, not really. The house belonged to Plum and, wow, he really was adrift, wasn’t he? As if sensing his distress, the cozy horse turned his head back to nuzzle Quentin's neck comfortingly.

“I’m going back to Brakebills.” Her blue eyes pierced his and he could see the steely determination. Had she already spoken to Fogg? But when? When he was sleeping? How was she even getting messages back to Earth? “I’m going to do some post-grad studies. I’m going to study niffins. I want to know what happened to me and I want to find out if we can bring others back.”

“Well, you need me for that!” Quentin countered. “Obviously.” He was the one who’d brought Alice back. No one else had ever attempted anything like it.

She gave a sad smile of acknowledgement. “I know what you did for me, Quentin. But that’s - that’s because you used to be in love with me. I need to find out if we can do this in other situations.” 

This was starting to feel like a break-up. (Were they even together?) She was trying to let him down gently; push him away with BS excuses that both of them knew didn’t make a lot of sense. And if he kept fighting, well, hadn’t he learned that there was no point fighting it? You couldn’t make someone want you. You couldn’t control anything about love, really, you could only be open, willing and lucky. Lucky enough to have someone choose you every day, and smart enough to realise that and not do something stupid like cheat on them with your best friend. 

(And yeah, maybe that was something that Quentin had never fully explored with his therapist either, on account of Alice dying. It just seemed far too disrespectful to her memory and the idealised remembrance he had of their relationship, but maybe that was the problem. Had their relationship ever been healthy? Why was he fighting for something that had never actually been that good?)

He took a deep breath. This hurt. But he had to face it; it was better than pretending or holding on or wasting the next year trying to get something back that maybe hadn’t even been there in the first place. Alice was his first love; he knew he’d never get over that. But that didn’t mean she’d be his only love.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

Alice looked surprised, and then just as quickly, relieved. “Okay,” she echoed, giving him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Q. I really tried. But I just don’t think I can be in love with you again. At least not now.” For a moment he was staring at the human Alice, the one that made him think they had a chance. But then the alien wildness settled back into her eyes again as she gazed beyond him, into the future.

He wanted to ask her for one last kiss (or one last roll in the hay together, but he might get kicked - by the cozy horse - if he asked for that). Instead, he took her hand and gently brought it to his lips. He remembered the last time he’d had to kiss his friends goodbye and the memory never got any easier. He wouldn’t leave Alice with that.

“Goodbye, Alice.”

She surprised him with a quick hug. “See you at Brakebills sometime.” She stepped back, made a quick motion with her hands, and in a flash, she was gone.

Quentin glanced over at the cozy horse.

“Well, it’s just you and me, kid,” the stoic, non-speaking, almost certainly mute, horse said. “Wanna get frisky?”

And that was how Quentin ended up fleeing to new Fillory.

\---

Eliot and Janet roared with laughter. “Quentin, let me get this straight. The cozy horse propositioned you?”

Quentin nodded, trying to look as sad and pitiful as he possibly could. 

“He said that he’d been watching me and Alice and obviously she wasn’t fulfilling me, you know, sexually, so he thought that maybe I’d be more into him?” He shrugged, still a little mortified. “And then he had that absolutely giant….”

Janet was eyeing him shrewdly. “You do realise, Q, that this happened in your land. The one you created. The one that sprung from your twisted little mind.”

The thought had crossed his mind once or twice, but he’d chalked it up to the cozy horse originally being from Fillory so it certainly wasn’t his fault that it was into bestiality. Not that there was anything wrong with that when the animals were sentient and able to consent, but it wasn’t his cup of tea. Not really. Even if he had toyed with the idea of being pegged by a giant cock; he certainly didn’t want it to be attached to a talking horse.

“Oh really?” Eliot said, suddenly very interested, and Quentin realised he’d accidentally said the last part out loud.

He took another gulp of his wine, feeling the tingling sensation wash over him. God, he’d missed these two. He hadn’t felt so relaxed or so comfortable in months. Years? He remembered the halcyon Brakebills days, or when they’d all been kings and queens and life had been so easy and good.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that the cozy horse crossed over into my land from Fillory-”

“-which you also created-” interjected Janet, and shit, that was kinda true too.

“Anyway, let’s focus on what’s important here,” said Eliot, thankfully saving him from any further probing questions. “Your land and new Fillory are directly connected, so I propose a treaty to have open borders between our lands and as the reigning monarch of your land - and seriously, Quentin, you need to come up with a name for it soon- we should sign the papers today so that you will always and forever be welcome here.”

He waved a hand and courtiers appeared from nowhere, with parchment and quills at the ready.

Wow. 

High King Eliot certainly wasn’t wasting any time. 

It made Quentin feel warm inside. Loved. Okay, Eliot was definitely his best friend and it wasn’t just the wine talking. Was there anyone else in the three worlds (or even all of them, if he was honest) who was always so genuinely excited to see him?

“I, High King Eliot Waugh, declare open borders with Quentin’s land, and Quentin Coldwater is granted full access to Fillory regardless of any future actions, contracts, curses, banishments or unexpected life events.” He signed it with a flourish, and then passed the parchment on to Janet for her signature. 

She took another sip of wine and said, “I don’t know, Eliot. Coldwater destroyed the last Fillory. You think we can trust him?” She managed to hold a straight face for thirty seconds before she finally broke and said, “Give me that pen.” Quentin let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Janet was so … Janet sometimes that it was easy to forget that she actually liked him. She was his friend. She just hid it well.

Quentin scrawled his signature below theirs, and then Eliot stamped it with his seal. “Done!” he declared. And then he waved his hand and cranked up the music before slumping down onto the floor next to Quentin; their backs against the ornate couch, while Janet remained regal in her separate chair.

He was so glad he’d come back.

\---

Hours later, Poppy and Josh had been and gone from the impromptu party, and Janet had taken herself and her axes off to bed. It was just Quentin and Eliot, like it had been so many times at Brakebills, when they’d talked together into the early hours of the morning about life, the universe and everything. Or nights on the Muntjac (but there had been a lot less alcohol then on account of the whole rocking boat thing). Those still nights had been magical. 

“I really didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” Eliot said, staring at the fireplace. The lights played over his face, giving him a warm glow. “I thought you and Alice would, you know, figure things out.”

“I thought so too,” Quentin admitted. “But it turns out I was just holding on to the past.” He gulped some water; there was only so much wine he could handle. “I thought that the past that was holding me back was Fillory. But I was just trying to replace one land with another.” He knew there was still a lot to unpack there; and even though every year he was growing into a more complete person, it turned out that he still didn’t really know what he wanted.

“So why did you come here?” Eliot’s voice was flat, emotionless, almost as if he was trying to hide how he really felt. Quentin glanced over at him. God, he’d really taken Eliot for granted, hadn’t he? All the times Eliot had reached out, and all the times Quentin had just not noticed because, well, he didn’t really have a good answer for that. He could blame the adventures and endless crises, but the truth was, he just hadn’t wanted to accept that anyone could care that much for a fuck-up like him. Add to that a huge dose of guilt over losing Alice, his “one true love”, and he really hadn’t made any space in his heart for anyone. 

“I missed my friends,” Quentin answered honestly. “I missed you, and Janet, and Poppy and Josh. But mostly you.” He swallowed, feeling like he owed Eliot the truth. “I never appreciated you before...before I got kicked out of Fillory. I just took you for granted. And I’m sorry for that, Eliot.” He contemplated reaching out, touching Eliot, but he wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. How do you tell your best friend (one that you are kind of attracted to) how much they mean to you without making it seem like you’re hitting on them? “And I never thanked you properly for the watch, or for coming to Earth, or for just...being there.” 

This time he did reach out, and found himself squeezing Eliot’s hand. A brief touch, and their eyes met. “I did a lot of thinking after Alice left. And I realised that I’ve been treating my best friend pretty terribly. So I decided to come see him and apologise, and -,” he hesitated, this really shouldn’t be that hard, should it? “And tell him what he meant to me.” 

For a moment, a look flashed across Eliot’s face. It was hard to read but it reminded Quentin of the time that Eliot had kissed him goodbye. Something long-repressed and never acknowledged, but there. The look was hidden just as fast, and Eliot gave him a genuine, heartfelt smile. “I’m so glad you came. You know you can stay as long as you need to.”

Quentin smiled in response. “I know.” It was such a comfort. 

They sat in silence together for a while, shoulders pressed together. Quentin reflected again how easy this was, just to be with Eliot. No worrying about what the other person was thinking or if he’d said th wrong thing. With Eliot, he could just be. 

“I can find you a job if you want one.”

And again, Eliot could read him like a book. He could see that Quentin was still a little lost; adrift. He was a magician but what did that really mean? Where was his place in the worlds? 

Laughing, Quentin countered, “You mean, I’d work for you? What; you want to make me one of your ‘boys’?”

“Well, you always look great in breeches,” Eliot shot back. 

“So do you,” Quentin replied without thinking. It was true. And oops, he had just accidentally flirted back with Eliot. But they did this all the time. Didn’t they? 

Eliot moved closer. “I know you look great out of breeches too.”

It was meant as a joke, or was it? Eliot was so close now, his face hovering near Quentin’s. This was a moment, Quentin realised. And it was up to him to decide if he should laugh it off, like he always did, or take a chance.

But first, he had to make one thing clear. “Eliot?”

Already backing away, Eliot said, “Hmm?” as he resolutely stared back at the fireplace.

“I just - I …”

“It’s okay, Quentin,” Eliot said. “I get it. You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I don’t want this to be a rebound.” He touched Eliot again, forcing the other man to meet his eyes. “I care about you. I love you.” The moment he said it, he felt so much lighter. The truth really was freeing. “And I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Heat grew in Eliot’s eyes. For the first time in his life, he seemed speechless.

“I don’t want it to be like last time when we had sex and then never talked about it again. And I don’t want you to think I slept with you because I was drunk and lonely.” Quentin knew he was rambling, but he wanted to say this fast, because now that the thought was in his head, he didn’t understand why he hadn’t acknowledged it sooner. He’d always been attracted to Eliot. It suddenly seemed crazy that he’d never acted on it. 

Was this what maturity was? Realising a good thing right in front of you that had been there all along? 

“And I don’t want you to think this is because I don’t know what I want. Okay, I don’t know what I want in life, sure, but the one constant that has been with me all these years has been you. Since that very first day when I met you at Brakebills, when you were my friend without even knowing me.” Somehow this was turning into a speech but Quentin didn’t know how to stop. “And then you invited me to parties and made me smile and got me out of my head for the first time in a long time. You came with me to Fillory. Then you stood by me when everything went wrong; and came and got me when I was wasting my life in the city, and kept joining me on my crazy adventures and spent months searching for me on the Muntjac and even when I got kicked out of Fillory you never stopped trying to find me and...fuck, Eliot, are you in love with me?”

Looking down at their joined hands, Eliot said, “I had thought it would be fairly obvious by now.”

“Oh. Oh fuck,” Quentin said again, dropping his head back and looking at the ceiling. “El, I’m so oblivious!”

He could hear the smile in Eliot’s voice as he said, “That’s just one of the many things I love about you.” 

Love. Yeah, love. It wasn’t like the movies taught you, where crazy romantic love hit you out of nowhere. It was a steady, enduring love that had been building for years, and Quentin was a fool for not acknowledging it. 

They were still sitting side by side, hands together, but Quentin suddenly swung around so that he was straddling Eliot’s legs. “So, do you think we could have sex now?” 

Eliot placed a hand on his thigh. It sent a delicious chill up his body and his cock, already half-erect, noticed. “I don’t know, Q.” A pause. “Maybe we should try kissing first?”

He brought his other hand gently to the back of Quentin’s head. Their eyes met and held. Firelight flickered around them and Quentin suddenly realised that -oh- he should remember this. The moment when things finally changed. The anticipation of feeling Eliot’s lips on his - again - but this time different. Because this time, the words had been spoken and the feelings acknowledged and they weren’t going to get away with pretending it had never happened. 

And at the first touch of Eliot’s lips on his, Quentin knew that he was - finally - home. 

\---

The curtain stirred, and a cozy horse poked his nose into the room. “Guess I missed my chance,” he sighed, and sadly trotted away.


End file.
